Well, hell, why should he care about how she was carrying on?
He didn’t.
All the way back to his truck, he told himself that over and over.
* * *
After Riley went to bed at nine, Lily laid down in the master bedroom, the telephone within arm’s reach on the nightstand. The storm continued to slash away at the trees, scraping and tapping like skeletal fingers against the siding. The lightning came in increasing and receding waves. The only lamp in the room was a low-wattage Tiffany (she was certain it was the real thing) on the dresser. As much as she wanted to retain her angry edge, the only thing she felt would protect her when she spoke to Clay, the steady beat of the rain against the window lulled her into a half sleep.
The phone rang at nine forty-five.
With a startled gasp, Lily jerked up onto her elbow. With a hammering heart, she picked it up.
“Hi, you all settled in?”
Peter. Lily let out a breath. “Yes. Everything’s in good order with the house. Riley’s sleeping in your old room.” She didn’t know why she offered that information, unless it was a way to offer Peter a connection, a compensation for bringing Riley to a place that brought him into contact with Clay Winters.
“Bet he’s loving the lake.”
She made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. “It’s as lovely as ever here. When you get out, you should spend some time here.” God, why on earth had she suggested that? Over the past fourteen years, Peter had dealt with the lake cottage with an inexplicable mix of protectiveness and resolute avoidance.
“That’d be great. I’d love for the three of us to explore our old haunts. Lily…” He paused. “I’m really trying. And I think I’ll be able to come home soon.”
She bit her tongue when she wanted to blurt out that he’d taken her suggestion all wrong. But Dr. Burtron had cautioned her to be careful these first weeks of Peter’s treatment. So she said, “Just take one day at a time. You shouldn’t rush things. The house will be here whenever you’re ready.”
And maybe he would—be ready, that is. Finally ready to face the past and deal with the future. The more she thought about it, the more she thought it probably would be a good step forward if he came back here and looked at the past face to face. But not with her here. She didn’t want to find herself drawn back into the old position of constant crutch. That wouldn’t help her or Peter. And, she had to admit, it would be risky. She didn’t know if he’d ever be strong enough to see Clay again. If she was present, it was bound to go badly.
“You’re right,” he said. “I can’t rush things.” She could hear the disappointment in his voice. That told her just how fragile he still was. When he spoke again, she could hear the manufactured brightness in his voice. “How’s my boy? Can I talk to him?”
“I’m sorry, he’s already in bed.” Thank heaven. She didn’t think she could cope with one more trauma today. Riley was always shaken up after talking with Peter. She hadn’t been able to sort out exactly why. He always seemed eager to talk to his dad, but after… there was always a dark cloud that followed.
“At ten o’clock? All that outdoor activity must really be wearing him out. I remember how tired I’d be after a day in the sun and the water. Zonk right out after dinner….” His voice trailed off.
Lily heard nostalgia coloring his tone for the first time in years. Maybe he was making progress. “Do you want me to get him up?” Say no. Please say no. She knew Peter was allowed only one telephone call a week at this point in his treatment. It seemed cruel beyond words to deny him the chance to talk to Riley. However, she thought selfishly, that would just add another layer to the lie of omission she was building.
There was a long pause, then he said, “Nah. He wouldn’t remember talking to me anyhow if you woke him. I’ve never seen anyone who sleeps as soundly as that kid.”
“I’ll tell him you called in the morning. He’ll be sorry he missed you. What time will you call next week? I’ll make sure he’s here and awake.”
“I’ll make it earlier, say nine. That way he won’t have to come in too early.” He sighed. “God, Lily, remember how we used to hang out by the dam until dark when I was his age? Mom was always red hot when I got home late for dinner.”
“Yeah,” she said softly, “I remember.” She remembered that and so much more. It made her heart ache to think about it.
“Well.” He blew out a breath that told Lily he was fighting tears. “I’d better go.”
“Okay. Riley will be waiting for your call next week.”
“Thanks. ’Bye.”
“ ’Bye.”
Just as she started to take the phone from her ear, he said, “Lily!”
“Yes?”
“I—I just want to thank you for… being here for me. There’s nobody else. It means a lot.”
The connection was broken before she could respond.
Lily struggled against the current. The harder she kicked, the more effort she put into her strokes, the farther away from shore she drifted. It was night, and raining. The winds churned the water of the lake into small whitecaps that slapped her in the face.
She fought the panic that she knew would drown her, unable to understand where the current had come from. She’d swum this lake all of her life and there had never been the slightest pull in the water.
Her arms burned. Her eyes stung. She choked on a mouthful of water and could not regain her breath.
Another wave crested over her head. She opened her eyes wider, unable to see anything in the dark, churning water. Her fingers snatched wildly for anything to grab on to. She knew it was futile. She was in the middle of the lake, there was nothing to grasp but more water.
Panic slipped away.
She was so tired. So tired of fighting.
A sense of calm began to radiate from the center of her body.
This was it.
The end.
She didn’t care.
She welcomed it.
The shrill ring of the telephone jerked her awake. Her heart hammered. She gasped in a breath. Fear bloomed anew. Not because she had been drowning, but because she seemed to accept death so easily.
The phone rang again.
As she picked it up, she looked at the clock. Three forty-five. Damn, Clay! She didn’t mean he should call her in the wee hours when he was done wining and dining his date.
“Yes.” It was more of an annoyed bark than a greeting.
“Lily, it’s Brownie.”
Lily’s mind fought the confusion of sleep and fear to make sense. Brownie? As he continued, it slid into place, Hank Brown from the local garage.
“I think you should get out here to the Crossing House. There’s a fire. Your dad needs you.”
“Oh, my God! Is Dad okay?” Her mind was shuffling horrors as quickly as the flipping pages of a thumbed book.
“We got him out. Won’t go to the hospital. Maybe you can talk hi—”
“I’m on my way.”
Chapter 5
Lily slammed the phone down as she hopped off the bed and slid into her tennis shoes, not bothering to tie them.
Riley. Should she take the time to shake Riley out of a dead sleep? She paused at his door. No. No time.
She dashed off a note and stuck it on the fridge before she rushed out the door.
The rain had slackened. The lightning now flashed in the distant east. Twice on the way to the Crossing House, her car slid through stop signs. She was no longer so familiar with these back roads and it was slick. By the time she saw the signs and hit the brakes, she was too close. Luckily, no one was out at this time of night.
At the third sign, she didn’t even hit the brakes.
As she rounded the curve that brought the Crossing House into sight, she was relieved not to see a huge ball of orange fire licking into the night sky. In fact, she could see no flames at all. The flashing lights from the fire truck, ambulance and sheriff’s vehicle were the only illumination. The
sodium vapor lamp on the side of the building that normally lit the parking lot was out.
She slammed the car into park before it stopped. That threw her forward, jerking her seat belt tight across her chest. It took three tries before she could unlatch the damn thing. All the while, she was scanning the area for her father.
The ambulance, she thought, he had to be there.
Once out of the car, she sprinted through puddles, wet shoelaces whipping around her ankles, toward the ambulance. The front bumper faced her. Light spilled out of the open rear doors. Lily grabbed the handle and swung herself around the open door, her feet skidding on the loose crushed stone that covered the lot.
She looked inside.
Empty. Except for the gurney, which had a sooty gray-black imprint of a body on its white covering. Her stomach dropped to her toes. The breath left her body and her lungs refused to pull in another.
Please, please, let him be all right.
A hand fell on her shoulder.
Instantly, she recognized the feel of it, knew who it belonged to.
“Daddy.” She spun and threw her arms around her father’s thick neck. He smelled of smoke and sweat. His pajama shirt was damp under her hands.
She pulled back for a second to look at his face, assure herself he wasn’t badly injured. His brown eyes were so bloodshot it was painful to look at them. She’d never seen him look so miserable. Unable to bear looking into his eyes, she did the only other thing she could, held him close and hung on for dear life.
Finally, she was able to speak. “Are you all right? They said you wouldn’t go to the hospital.”
“Fine.” He coughed. “Be right as rain once I get these lungs cleared out.”
“Then you should go to the hospital, get them checked. You could have damage.” She took him by the elbow and tried to move him toward the ambulance.
He didn’t budge.
“Dad. You have to go.”
“Don’t think a slip of a girl is going to do what two grown men couldn’t.” He nodded toward the big smudge on the gurney. “Once I came to my senses, I set them straight. I need to be here.” He turned toward the bar. “To see what’s salvageable.”
There was the slightest break in his voice. Lily couldn’t decide if it was simply the result of breathing so much smoke or if he was as choked on emotion. Her gaze followed his.
Other than his children, this bar was all he had in this world. It was his livelihood, his social center, his connection to the town, the hub of his universe.
All of the exterior walls appeared sound. However, there wasn’t much light. The first-floor windows were shattered; black smoke trails ran above each one, fanning to the upper floor.
She slipped her arm around him. “Dad, they aren’t going to let you in there tonight. There’s no power. They’ll need daylight to be sure it’s safe for you to go in. The floors—”
Benny set his mouth firmly and creased his sooty brow. “I don’t reckon I need anybody to tell me when I can and when I can’t go into my own place. I know to be careful. I’ve got to get this place back up and running.”
“But Dad—”
He jerked his gaze back to her face. “I said, I’ll be careful.” His tone was sharp. He turned from her, looking once again at the bar. “I’m not an idiot, Lily.”
“Then don’t act like one! Use the good sense God gave you and let a doctor check you out.”
His startled gaze whipped from the smoldering building back to Lily. He pinned her motionless with his dark eyes, reasserting his position as parent.
Lily’s ears started to burn.
She ignored them and pushed on while she could continue to ride on the momentum of her frustration. “Damn it, Dad, I’m just asking you to do what you’d make anyone else do. Go, and as soon as you’ve been checked and released, I’ll come back here with you—”
He raised a beefy hand and pointed at the tavern. “Don’t think for a single minute I’m letting you in there. It’s not safe.”
Lily cocked her head, pinched her lips together and put her hands on her hips. She held him with the same determined gaze he’d just used on her. She was a parent, too, by God. She knew how to use “the look.”
For what seemed an eternity, they remained faced off, staring at each other. Lily felt herself begin to waiver, but managed to keep her expression resolute.
Benny burst into laughter. Which set off a ragged coughing fit. He put an arm around her shoulder and barked out between coughs, “I know… when I… I’m b-beat.” He stepped into the ambulance. “You’re coming, aren’t you?”
Lily couldn’t remember ever winning an argument with her dad. Not once in her entire life. He could be as unbendable as an iron I-beam—logic be damned. A strict disciplinarian, he would hear all arguments, but never could Lily remember being able to change his mind.
And now it had happened. It was both a marvelous and frightening thing. Somewhere in the past few minutes, her position as the protected just got overturned. She was the protector. The tides were changing. Someday, perhaps in the not-too-distant future, her dad would rely on her, just as she had relied on him. The safety net that she always assumed would be there had just received its first nip and fray. Soon there would be holes. Someday it would be gone, nothing left but ragged knots at its anchor points.
For the first time in her adult life, she really felt like she was on her own.
From his first week in Glens Crossing, Clay had been on the volunteer fire department. The town had a couple of genuine firefighters, only enough to put out trash fires and organize everyone else when a real fire came along. This was the first “real” fire since Clay had returned.
When the beeper had gone off, his blood immediately charged, his body remembered and yearned for the all-powerful adrenaline rush. As much as he tried to force himself into the mold of small-town guy, he couldn’t deny his deep-seated need for a challenge—danger.
Now the excitement was over.
He waited until he saw Lily climb into her car and follow the ambulance out of the parking lot. Then he stepped out of the shadows behind the tavern. A sickening mix of emotions pulsed through his veins. He’d wanted to take pleasure in the panic he saw on her face when she ran to the ambulance. He’d wanted to know she was finally feeling just a hint of the pain she’d dealt him.
On the day he had come back to Glens Crossing he’d sorted out his life into clearly defined segments. Each related, yet wholly separate from the other. First was the cold and lonely time before he’d met Peter. At that time his life had consisted solely of paid professional care. His mother had died and his father had chosen the hands-off approach to parenting. Once he and Peter had become friends, Phase II began.
Phase II was an aberration. A time that gave him false hope for his life. He’d been ensconced in the warmth of Peter’s family and summers in Glens Crossing. He fell in love with Lily. He’d foolishly believed she loved him. He’d planned a life with her. But his plans had been temporarily interrupted and Lily immediately betrayed him by marrying his best friend.
Once Lily married Peter, Phase III, one he’d dubbed “fool to trust,” began. This phase taught him costly lessons, ones he vowed never to forget. After that, he put his most valuable asset, his complete lack of need for other human beings, to work. He bartered other peoples’ loyalties, played the unsuspecting, ferreted out and used people’s weaknesses. He’d become an intelligence operative—a spy. And he’d excelled at it.
That in itself should have told him something about himself.
But he’d held on to the foolish notion that he could, by coming back, recover some fraction of what he had had here in Glens Crossing. Thus began his current phase. And, for a short time, he believed it might work.
That belief was rapidly slipping away. He had yet to name this fourth phase, but something like “biggest fucking mistake of my life” was catching on. Which really said something, because he’d made some real FUBARs—all of which alwa
ys boiled down to putting trust in the wrong people.
Now Lily was working herself back into his life. The stark terror he’d seen in her face hadn’t brought the satisfaction he’d waited so long for. Instead it dredged up unwanted feelings. He’d wanted to rush to her, take her in his arms and reassure her that everything was going to be all right.
He now realized she was his weakness, his only weakness. And it frightened him. For years, he’d hammered his body and his mind to ensure there were no weak spots, no chink in his armor, no point of vulnerability.
He felt naked. Naked and alone. Damn her for making him feel that way.
Drawing his shoulders straight, he vowed to close himself to her. If that was his weak spot, he would reinforce it. She was the most dangerous enemy he’d ever faced. He wouldn’t let her hurt him again.
For a long moment, he allowed himself to stand there with his heart aching. Just this once, then he’d let her go.
Brownie came up from behind and slapped him on the shoulder. “You did a good thing tonight. Hell of a good thing.”
Clay turned and looked at him. The kindness that showed in Brownie’s lanky face made him ashamed. He didn’t deserve it.
When it had become apparent that somebody needed to go in and get Benny, he’d been through the door before anyone else could volunteer.
He’d heard Chief Jeffers yelling for him to stop. He didn’t. He’d been like a junkie too long without a fix. The response to risk pulsed through his veins, reviving that edgy instinct that had kept him alive for so long.
The rush was short-lived. It had taken him less than a minute to find Benny on the floor at the top of the staircase and get him out. When it was over, a terrible ugly part of him wished it had lasted longer.
Maybe he hadn’t been as thorough as he’d imagined when he left his old life behind and started searching for a new one.
Clay watched Brownie and the others finish rewinding the hoses on the fire truck and loading their gear into pickup trucks and SUVs. As they’d fought the fire side by side, he’d felt like he was one of them. And he couldn’t deny that he liked it. But it was all an illusion. He’d never belong anywhere.
The Road Home Page 8